“Most unlikely things are those that happen first,” growled the captain.
“But you worry the men with too much work, and I want them to be fresh and ready for me to-morrow morning. I don’t want the poor fellows to be discontented.”
“Discontented, sir!” cried the skipper hotly. “I should like to see them look discontented! But not they! They like it. Puts them in mind of their old fighting days. Now you shall see them go through their drill with the boarding pikes, and see how smart I have made them. I say they like it, sir; and I know.”
“Then I suppose,” said Uncle Paul, “you will set them to work lumbering about that great gun, pretending to load and fire it. Why, who in the world do you expect we are going to encounter out here on the high seas? We are not at war with the French.”
“Captain Chubb thinks we may meet with the privateer,” said Rodd merrily.
“Don’t you make rude remarks, Rodney!” cried Uncle Paul angrily. “Well, there, captain, I suppose you will have your own way, but it seems to me great waste of time.”
“Oh no, sir,” said the skipper good-humouredly. “I suppose you mean to run in and up some of those rivers we shall pass by and by?”
“Most certainly,” cried the doctor.
“Well, and what then, sir? You are going right out of civilisation there, and among black tribes and warlike people who are ready for anything, from attacking another tribe and bringing the prisoners down the river to sell for slaves, up to taking a fancy to any smart craft they can master, and then stripping her and burning her to the water’s edge.”
“And what becomes of the crews?” cried Rodd sharply.